


A Song Without Words

by ThatCertainNutLady



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, amelie is a bitch but she softens up i swear, sobs because im a musician and uh heck mate its all weird here at uni
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 10:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15839229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatCertainNutLady/pseuds/ThatCertainNutLady
Summary: Lena Oxton, a sprightly young Piano performance major at the international music conservatory has found herself in a tense rivalry with the star student, a violin major who plays with perfect technique, with no true emotion or artistry to be found.





	A Song Without Words

**Author's Note:**

> I know, you all wanted Leave it All Behind You to get updated, but I felt like writing something nice and widowtracer-y would be better than constantly torturing my characters :') 
> 
> Thank you for your wonderful comments and I can't wait to see where this series goes!
> 
> Link to the playlist coming soon!

The dry air, the scent of dust between keys...

This is what Lena Oxton lived for. 

The college freshman giddily set down her bags as she entered the cramped practice room, locking the door behind her. Inside her practice bag was an absolute mess of scores, ranging from typical Hannon exercises to the prized piece that won her a spot at this very conservatory, the Chopin Etude Op. 10, No. 1. She carefully set down each piece of music she could find, propping open the Etude on the music stand that sat atop the practice piano. Oh, the wonderful piano. Lena breathed in a happy sigh when she raised the hood of the upright piano, revealing gleaming monochrome keys just  _itching_ to be played. Her twitchy fingers rested above those glittering ivory keys, ready to jump into whatever piece she wanted to. 

 _Screw the warmup_ , she decided, _I'll only be here for a bit._ _Might as well get used to the practice rooms._

And so she began, her right hand dashing up and down the upper keys, that bright bassline octave supporting the generous amount of pedal she applied. By all means,  _she_ thought it sounded good. 

"It's like you're finally playing for yourself." She would say to whatever girl would hang off her shoulder, back in High School, "Playing music the way you want is the way its supposed to be played. Besides, the score is  _meant_ to be played around with." 

Here she was, in the present, the loudest practice room on the hallway, dashing through the Etude at a record speed, covering up ill notes with that wonderful damper pedal her foot was usually so attached to. Lena shut her eyes, practically  _breathing in_ the music as it was played. 

_Yeah, that's how it feels. Right there, luv. What a wonderful piece._

The dips and rises, the absolute  _wonder_ she felt when she lowered the dynamics of a section that should have been blaring loud, this was what Lena loved about music. Now that the competitive part of auditions and interviews and the constant drills of hundreds of sonata movements, she could finally focus on bettering her playing so that she could bring her music to the people of the world. 

She's too caught up in the vindictive  _joy_ of the piece to notice the  _click_ of the door locking her away from the rest of the world, and it takes a rough shove towards the bridge of the instrument to stop her glorious playing. 

"Oww! What in the hell was that for??" She groaned, rubbing the area on the back of her head that was gripped tightly, spinning around to see who had the nerve to interrupt her. "Why you gotta shove me like that, luv..."

Her words are cut off as she looks into the face of her attacker. Instead of a rowdy young trumpet major, it's a woman. A  _beautiful_ one. With deep chocolate brown eyes hidden beneath perfect brows, furrowed with wonderful anger; plump lips painted a matte rose red framing her perfect pale face... 

Lena was at a loss for words, a light rouge tinting her cheeks as moments of silence dwindled between them, her look of confusion matched with the furious expression the woman made towards her. 

"I cannot hear myself practice. Quiet yourself, imbécile. J'en ai plus rien à foutre." She snarled, baring her perfect white teeth and gripping the collar of Lena's shirt. Her low voice was peppered with a French accent that sounded both wonderful and so  _rude_ at the same time. "You sound awful. Are you sure you're a student here? I've never heard the Piano department take in a pupil with such  _lacking_ talent." 

"Oi, I don't know who you think you are," Lena started, but was quietly hushed with a slender finger to her lips.

"I know who I am, the person you should be worrying about is yourself and your position at this school." The woman said gently, letting go of Lena's collar and standing up straight, "I would worry if I were you, salope, if someone shared a formal complaint to the Board of Education about one of their Freshmen causing quite the ruckus in the practice rooms." Those perfect red lips widened into a false smile, a look of  _condescending_ happiness. 

"What are you-" 

"I will be leaving now." The woman bowed graciously, swinging on her heels and slamming the door behind her as she exited, hitting Lena with the end of her long ponytail with a whiplash that got her a face full of hair. 

Lena sat there alone for a moment, cupping the cheek that got the blunt force of the whip and wondering in silence. 

Who exactly was this  _perfect woman,_ and why was she so  _fucking_ _insulting?_

 

 

 

_\----------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Link to the Chopin Etude, Op. 10, no. 1: https://youtu.be/--4LsG47fOM_


End file.
